Family Matters
by SilverCookieDust
Summary: [Part of the 'For the Price of a Soul' universe] It's 2018. Dudley Dursley hasn't seen or thought about his oddball cousin in twenty years, but when his daughter is revealed as a witch Dudley suddenly wonders what happened to little Harry Potter.


**AN:** Just to reiterate what the summary mentions—this is a short story set in my 'For the Price of a Soul' universe, so it won't make much sense if you haven't read those.

* * *

"Dudley?"

Dudley started, looking up from the letter on the table before him to look over at Nina, his wife, standing in the kitchen doorway, still in her nightclothes. He smiled softly at her and held an arm out, wrapping it around her waist when she came over, pressing a kiss to her protruding belly before tilting his head back as she bent to kiss him.

"You're up early, even for you," she commented. She noticed the letter he'd been reading and frowned slightly. "Are you doubting it?"

He shook his head. "After what we saw yesterday, we'd be mad to doubt it."

"I don't know. I'm wondering if it was all some pregnancy induced dream."

"I don't think _I'm_ having pregnancy induced dreams."

She chuckled and moved away to take one of the other chairs. "I'm sure there's some kind of argument that could be made for shared delusions."

He smiled slightly, but shook his head again. He looked the letter over once more then moved it aside and looked at his wife. Nina was a couple of years younger than him and a billion times more worthy. Every day he was thankful for her and constantly wondered what she saw in him, even after three years of dating, eight years of marriage, and two children with two more on the way. Sometimes he still worried that people saw him as the unkind boy he'd been at fifteen, before his parents' deaths so drastically changed his outlook on life, and had to forcibly remind himself that he was a respected thirty-eight year old colonel in the British Army.

He was also, he'd discovered yesterday, the father of a witch. It had taken a long time for Neville Longbottom to convince him that it was true, but now that he had Dudley didn't think he was going to disbelieve it. It explained a lot of the strange things that happened around Abigail, his oldest child. The news had kept him awake most of the night, but he hadn't been thinking solely of Abigail.

"Dudley, is everything alright?"

He smiled again, holding out his hand and curling his fingers around Nina's when she put it in his. "There's something I need to tell you about, Nina. Nothing bad," he added hurriedly. "Nothing's wrong, I promise. It's just something from my childhood, something I'd almost forgotten until yesterday."

Nina's worry didn't ease, but she put her other hand over his. "What is it?"

"I, uh... I used to have a cousin."

She looked surprised, then concerned. "Used to? Did something happen to them? What was their name?"

Dudley's mind went blank for a minute. "I don't—Harry! Gods, I can't believe I forgot it there. Harry, his name was Harry. He came to live with me and my parents when he was a baby because his mother and father died in a car accident when he was a year old. His mother was my mum's sister. The thing is..." He hesitated, recalling long ago days and actions that he didn't like to think of. The world had seemed so different to him thirty years ago and things that he'd considered normal then were now painfully obvious as _not_. "The thing is my parents, my dad especially, they didn't... well, they didn't like him."

"They didn't like your cousin?" Nina asked for clarification. "Why not?"

"I don't know. I can't remember, but my dad, he... he used to beat Harry. Not just a smack to the bottom every so often, but real..." He couldn't bring himself to say abuse, though he knew that's what it had been. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, he—Harry—he disappeared when we were seven or eight, I don't remember exactly. He was injured one day when a burglar broke into our house and attacked him and my dad, and a few months later he ran away. We moved not long after—" which, now that he thought about it, was a bit suspicious "—but a few years later, he was found and came back to live with us, but he disappeared again just a few weeks later."

"He ran away again?"

"I... I don't know." He frowned, remembering that summer and the visit from the strange man in black. "I think someone came and took him away actually. My parents told me that he went to a special school for mentally damaged children."

Nina must have heard something in his voice or seen it on his face because she raised a questioning eyebrow, to which he shrugged.

"I don't know if it was true. I remember at the time I believed it because there was definitely something strange about him, but I believed everything my parents told me and they were the ones who said Harry was a weirdo so maybe I only believed it because of that."

He worried she would be disgusted with him for so easily believing something so cruel and silly, but she squeezed his hands and smiled reassuringly.

"Why are you telling me this now?" she asked. He glanced towards the letter briefly.

"You remember how Abi got on the roof a few years back, saying she flew up from the swing."

She shuddered at the memory. "I'm not going to ever forget it."

"Harry did that too. There were other things as well, weird stuff happening, and that summer he spent with us when I was twelve, he told me once that he was a wizard. I laughed at him and called him crazy, but now..."

"You think it was true?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. It might be, it might not be. But either way, I can't help wondering what happened to him and where he is now. Whether he's still alive."

"You want to find him," she figured. He nodded. "You should then. The army must be able to help you find him."

"You really think I should?"

"Why not? He's your cousin."

"I know, it's just... I wasn't very kind to him either," he admitted reluctantly. "I wasn't a very nice child and I was... I was cruel to Harry."

There was no other way to say it and while he might be unwilling to admit his parents' faults, them being dead and unable to defend themselves, he was at least able to admit his own.

"You're not the boy you once were, Dudley," Nina said softly. "I'm sure your cousin would understand that if you met him. You're a good man and if he's half as good then he'll at least give you the chance to talk about it."

Dudley wasn't so sure. Harry had good reason to hate him, but maybe Nina was right. Dudley had changed a lot since he was twelve; Harry probably had too.

* * *

For the first time in nearly twenty years of service, the army failed Dudley. He had several well connected friends and a few decent connections himself, but no one knew where Harry Potter was. There wasn't a single record of him since the age of seven, when he was last registered as a student at Little Whinging Primary School.

A month after the visit from Professor Longbottom, Dudley still had people looking into it but he turned his attention towards another avenue. It was the first Saturday of August and he and Nina were taking Abigail to Diagon Alley to buy her school supplies. They left Eric, their eight year old son, with Nina's parents, deciding it would be best to enter the wizarding world slowly. They would bring Eric if and when Diagon Alley proved to be safe.

At first look, Dudley wasn't sure it was. There were owls and bats, people in strange clothes, and shops full of stranger things. They had to buy Abigail robes and a wand and the strangest potion ingredients, but as the day wore on he came to realise that his wariness was more a base reaction to something new and different. By the time they reached the bookshop—where the books flew and the shelves sorted themselves—he was used to all the strangeness enough to feel only slightly wary about leaving Nina and Abigail to find her schoolbooks and approach a store worker who was organising some books in the history section.

"Excuse me?"

She glanced around with a welcoming smile, brushing a stray strand of red hair back from her face. Dudley hesitated when she did. There was something about her—the shape of her face, the tilt of her smile, the way she held herself—that reminded him so strongly of his mother that he was struck by an sudden, intense pang of longing.

"Hi there. How can I help?"

He shook off the unexpected feeling. "Actually... I'm not sure you can but I don't know who else to ask. I'm not... I mean I'm a... a Muggle? My daughter's a witch and..."

"First time shopping?" the woman said with a knowing smile when he hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I know how it is, I'm Muggleborn too. Let me guess—you want something to help you understand the world she's going into?"

"Uh... that would be good, actually," he said, not having considered it before, "but not what I was going to ask."

"Sorry, go ahead."

He chuckled nervously. "Right, well, as I said, I'm not entirely sure—is there a registry?" he blurted. The woman's smile faded.

"What do you mean by that?"

"A national registry? It's just I used to have this cousin that I lost contact with and I think he might have been a wizard, but I have no idea how to find him and I can't find anything about him in the norm- the Muggle world, so I was wondering if witches have different records that could help me find him."

The woman's vaguely suspicious look faded. "Ah. Yeah, there is, but it's not easy for Muggles to access. Almost impossible actually. You said you _think_ your cousin is a wizard. You're not sure?"

"We lost contact when we were children, but we grew up together and some of the things that happened back then remind me of the things that have been happening around my daughter that I've been told is magic. Is there nothing I can do then? Not even someone I can contact?"

She considered it then gestured at him to follow her to the till. It was a lot busier there, but she snatched a notepad and quill— _an actual quill_ —from beside the till and scribbled something down then tore the sheet from the pad and handed it to him.

 _Magical Census Bureau, Ministry of Magic._

"Write to them," the woman said. "You'll have to send it by owl—you know about owls?—and don't expect them to be speedy about their response, but they might be able to help you find your cousin if he is a wizard."

He nodded and pocketed the note the held his hand out. "Thank you, ma'am."

She shook, smiling. "No worries. Good luck, and let me know if you need any help finding books."

* * *

Abigail already had her own pet cat, but given Professor Longbottom's advice when he delivered Abigail's Hogwarts letter, Dudley and Nina agreed it would be a good idea to buy a family owl so they could send letters while Abigail was at school. Dudley was wary of it, concerned as to how much care it would need, but the pet store owner assured them that not only were all their owls excellent letter carriers, but also fully house trained and capable of hunting for themselves. As long as the owl was able to leave the house regularly then all they needed to do was make sure there was a place for it to take shelter in bad weather and ensure it had fresh drinking water.

Abigail wasn't too fond of it, never having been a fan of birds, but Eric was delighted when they got it home and begged to name it. Nina and Dudley agreed. Eric named it Thor, which came as no surprise to anyone given his fascination with all things Marvel. Dudley was doubtful about its delivery capabilities, but saw no other option if he wanted to find his cousin.

He didn't have much hope. As the only things he know about Harry were his name and the month and year of his birth—he couldn't remember the exact day, but thought it was at the end of July rather than the beginning—he was doubtful as to how much help the Magical Census Bureau would be. 'Harry' and 'Potter' were both common enough names after all; who knew how many wizards called that were running around Britain? He also knew how bad governments could be with paperwork and red tape, so whatever reply came he didn't expect it for several weeks.

He was therefore thoroughly shocked and a more than a little worried when, just a week after sending his letter, a woman appeared on his doorstep. She wore a trouser suit, but something about her put him on edge immediately.

"Colonel Dursley? My name's Hermione Granger. May I come in? I'd like to speak to you about the letter you sent last week about your cousin."

He didn't move. "Can I see some ID?"

She took a purse from a pocket that didn't look large enough to hold it and showed him a perfectly normal Muggle driver's licence, then withdrew from the same pocket a narrow leather wallet that had a photo ID stamped with DMLE—only the photo _moved_. He'd seen some pictures in Abigail's new books, but it was still weird.

"May I come in?" she asked again while he stared at it.

"What? Oh, yes, I suppose."

He stepped aside to let her pass and closed the door after her then led her through to the kitchen. Abigail and Eric were out with their grandparents and Nina was napping, all of which he found himself suddenly grateful for, and he made a coffee for himself and Hermione then sat with her at the kitchen table.

"Can I see that ID again?" he asked. "The magical one."

She complied without hesitation, silently watching him look at it.

"DMLE?" he asked.

"Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Law Enforcement?" he repeated, even more concerned now. "Have I committed some sort of crime trying to find my cousin?"

"No, but the DMLE tends to take an interest in anyone asking questions about Harry Evans."

Dudley relaxed. "Oh, you've got the wrong person, Ms. Granger. My cousin is Harry Potter."

"At birth. He changed his name."

"Oh. You're sure it's the same Harry? It's a common name."

"Not in the magical world. I assure you, Colonel Dursley, Harry Evans is the cousin you're looking for. I know him personally and I know who you are."

The tension was back in an instant. Dudley hadn't felt this on edge in years. "You do? What do you mean exactly? How do you know me?"

"Harry's told me about you, and I looked into your more recent background when my friend in the MCB told me she'd got a letter from Harry Potter's cousin."

"I'm not happy about this."

She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "I'm sure if you'd known I was coming, you would have looked into my own background. Given your position in the army, you could probably find out a fair bit, too. Don't be surprised when other people do the same."

"I... fair enough," he grumbled. It was true enough, and with her name and date of birth from her ID he had every intention of looking into her the first chance he got. "I still don't understand why law enforcement is interested in my search for Harry. Is he in trouble or something?"

Her smile this time was like she was remembering a joke that he wasn't in on. "You could say that. As a member of the DMLE, all I can say is that Harry Evans is under house arrest. As his friend, I've been told to ask what it is you want with him."

"House arrest?" Dudley repeated. "For what?"

"What do you want with him, Colonel?"

"I just wanted to get in touch with him. I haven't seen him since we were children and now—since my daughter—I just wondered about him. If he was alive and if so then where was he, how he was doing. He vanished when we were children and I never knew where to. Are you telling me he's a criminal?"

Maybe his parents had been right about Harry all along.

Hermione took several mouthfuls of her coffee before answering. "Twenty years ago Harry was coerced into committing several violent crimes against his will. Although found guilty by a jury, the extenuating circumstances of the crimes were taken into account and he was sentenced to house arrest rather than imprisonment."

"Twenty years ago? But he's the same age as me, he would only have been eighteen."

"As I said: extenuating circumstances," Hermione said. "He will spend the rest of his life under house arrest."

"That sounds miserable," Dudley said, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that Harry—who he still remembered as a scrawny little boy often covered in bruises—had become a violent criminal, even if coerced. What did that mean, anyway?

"He's happier than I've ever seen him before, actually," Hermione replied, and smiled at his obvious surprise. "Colonel, as Harry's friend, I am telling you that if you wish to then he is willing to meet with you."

"And as a law enforcement officer?"

"I am obligated to warn you that Harry Evans is still considered a potential danger and anyone wishing to visit him at his place of residence takes as much risk as they would in visiting a standard prison."

Dudley nodded. It was all a bit much to take in, and it must have shown on his face because Hermione finished her coffee and said, "Feel free to consider it, Colonel. If you decide you want to meet with Harry, send me an owl at the DMLE and I will make arrangements. If I don't hear from you, I shall assume your urge to know about your cousin is satiated."

She stood up and Dudley rose as well, but stopped her leaving. "You said Harry is willing to meet with me. Does that mean he actually wants to?"

She pursed her lips at that and hesitated to answer. "Honestly, I don't know. Harry and I aren't as close as we once were and I don't know how to read him as well as I used to. He's willing to, and that's really all I can say for sure."

* * *

He hesitated to tell Nina about Hermione's visit, not wanting to scare her with the news that his cousin was a violent criminal, but she was his wife and they'd never kept anything from each other before so he wasn't going to start now. They discussed it, and he spent several weeks considering things, but eventually he wrote to Hermione. Whatever Harry had become, Dudley wanted to meet him, to figure out what had happened all those years ago. Maybe they could become something like friends even. With Aunt Marge dead from a heart attack for a few years now, Harry was the only family Dudley had left, aside from his wife and kids. And whatever crimes Harry had committed, they couldn't be too terrible or he'd have been imprisoned instead of placed under house arrest, whatever the extenuating circumstances were.

It was September by then. On the first, he and Nina took Abigail to London King's Cross and saw her off from a hidden platform. It was packed with children and their parents, and he was so worried about losing Abigail amidst it all that only after he helped her get settled in a compartment and returned to the platform did he notice Hermione. She'd already seen him, but she wasn't close enough for them to speak and, after catching his eye, she held his gaze just long enough to acknowledge him with a nod then turned away. She held the hand of a girl probably no more than five years old, while a boy of maybe eight stood sulkily behind her, and on her other side an older man lectured a petulant looking twelve year old girl.

Nina noticed him looking. "Do you know those people?"

"Not exactly. That woman is Hermione Granger, the one who came to see me about Harry. I suppose those are her children."

Nina looked curiously. "Do you think that man is her husband?"

Dudley shook his head immediately. The man had to be at least twenty years her senior, if not more. "Father. She's not wearing a wedding—oi!"

A young boy and girl had just run past him, the girl accidentally smacking him and almost knocking him into Nina.

"Sorry!"

"Vega! Nero! What have I told you about running on the platform?"

The boy looked apologetic but the girl rolled her eyes before turning to the blonde, well dressed woman stalking towards them. "Sorry, Mum. I was just trying to reach Maddy before we have to get on the train."

She didn't wait to hear her mother's response, just turned and speed-walked the rest of the distance to Hermione and her group, flinging an arm around the oldest girl's shoulders, her brother trailing after her. The man didn't look impressed to have his lecture interrupted but he didn't continue it, instead looking over the children's heads to meet the gaze of the blonde woman as she approached them. They said a few words then the man's gaze slid past her and noticed Dudley. When their eyes met Dudley nodded politely, but the man responded with a scowl. He looked to Hermione and said something, she glanced over before responding and then put a hand to his arm when his expression darkened. He looked to Dudley again and this time there was no doubting that his unfriendly expression wasn't just normal but directed at Dudley.

"Don't."

Dudley bristled, holding the man's stare even as he replied to Nina. "Why not?"

"Because this isn't the time or place. The man is clearly unfriendly; don't take it personally."

"He's making it personal," Dudley replied, but he settled for scowling at the man and then turning away.

The train whistle blew and the guard cried for everyone to get aboard. Dudley and Nina were forced back a step as the dawdling children hurried to get on the train, but they managed to keep sight of Abigail through the window and waved at her until the train pulled away and out of sight. A number of parents had already left through the hidden entrance and now the rest headed for it—or simply disappeared straight from the platform with a slight pop of displaced air—and Dudley and Nina turned towards it too.

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Nina asked as they joined the queue to leave. "Being so far from home and for so long..."

Dudley put his arm around her and squeezed reassuringly. "I think she'll be fine, love. She's a tough nut. Takes after her mum."

"Her dad, you mean," she corrected with a smile. "I was a silly little mummy's girl when I was eleven. I could never have gone to a boarding school."

"Nothing wrong with a mummy's girl. Your mother is a wonderful person."

"Except when she has a few too many at Christmas dinner and starts singing karaoke?"

"Except then," he agreed dryly.

* * *

He sent his letter to Hermione on the last day of August and received a reply little under a week later. It provided a date and time that she would come to pick him up to go to Harry's and requested he respond ASAP to confirm it was an acceptable time for him. It was a work day, but he had nothing so important that he couldn't take it off; he figured arranging visit dates for a wizard under house arrest might be harder than it was for him to get an unscheduled day off.

It was a Wednesday so he didn't have to worry about Eric being around when Hermione turned up. Dudley dropped him off at school then got back to the house to find Hermione already there, sitting at the kitchen table with Nina and discussing Hogwarts and how Abigail was likely getting on.

"If she's anything like me," Hermione was saying, "she'll be loving it. It really is a wonderful school and learning magic is incredible. The teachers there are wonderful—I know a few of them personally—and you really won't find a better school in Europe."

Dudley joined them for the tail end of the conversation, reassured by everything Hermione said about the school and the fact that she was a Muggleborn witch herself. Before long, though, the conversation ended and Hermione asked if he was ready to leave. He nodded, feeling suddenly nervous. He'd spent most of the past few weeks trying to figure out what he wanted to say to Harry when they meet, and he still wasn't sure.

"How are we getting there?" he asked. There hadn't been any unfamiliar cars parked on the street when he got back from dropping off Eric. Now that he thought about it, there hadn't been any when Hermione first came to see him, either. Did she come by bus? There was a stop at the end of the street.

"A portkey," she answered, taking a perfectly ordinary looking empty water bottle from her pocket, then spent ten minutes explaining what it was and assuring him it was perfectly safe. "Please place a finger on the bottle."

He did so. Hermione stared at her watch while Dudley and Nina exchanged slightly concerned looks.

"Five—four—three—two—one—"

A hook grabbed Dudley in the gut, the kitchen disappeared into a swirl of colour and wind, then his feet slammed down hard and he staggered, very nearly falling on his backside. He resisted the urge to vomit and looked around, taking in his surroundings. They were on a narrow country road, low, unkempt hedges lining the fields on one side of them and a large manor house on the other, its grounds blocked off by taller, well-tended hedges. Hermione led him to a pair of wrought iron gates at the foot of a driveway, drew her wand and tapped it to them, and they swung open of their own accord. Glancing back to check he was still following, she led him up the driveway to the front door of the manor.

"Now I understand why you said he was happier than he'd ever been," Dudley remarked, staring up at the building. "No one could complain about being under house arrest in a place like this."

Hermione just smiled faintly in reply and gestured him inside, opening the door without key or knocking. It opened into a hallway lined with portraits whose eyes followed them as they moved down and into a drawing room at the end. Dudley only briefly looked over the room itself, taking in the crystal chandelier and more portraits hanging on the walls, but was far more interested and a little intimidated by the people in the room. He had expected Harry and perhaps some kind of guard, given his criminal status. He hadn't expected a half dozen people who all turned to look at him with varying degrees of distrust and dislike on their faces.

The man who'd been on platform nine and three-quarters with Hermione was there, and so was the redheaded woman from the bookshop in Diagon Alley. There was a long-haired middle aged man who was fiddling with a pack of cigarettes, another middle-aged dark-haired man, and a blond man of maybe thirty who had the strongest look of loathing. Then there was Harry himself, though it took Dudley a moment to realise. He looked little more than thirty, his eyes were two different colours, and he stood at barely five foot six and didn't have much in the way of muscle or fat, though he wasn't as skinny and undernourished as Dudley remembered him as a child. He was the only one sitting down, a little girl of about five in his lap, and if it weren't for the distinctive lightning bolt scar on his forehead, Dudley doubted he'd have recognised him.

"Hello, Dudley."

"Harry," Dudley replied a little stiffly. If he didn't feel so intimidated he might have found it amusing that the smallest, most unthreatening looking person in the room—not counting the child—was supposedly the violent criminal.

Harry must have realised something because he took the child from his lap and set her on the floor so he could stand. She had the same mismatched eyes as Harry but the platinum blond hair of the man at Harry's side.

"Now you've all had a gawk, do you mind leaving?" Harry said to the rest of the people. No one moved and he sighed. "Really, guys, I will force you to."

With clear reluctance, they started to move. The smoker left first, already taking a cigarette from its box and lighting it up just by touching his wand to the end of it.

"Tyler!" the blond yelled, and Dudley saw the smoker grin as he hurried past. "No smoking in the house!"

The dark-haired man passed Dudley next, looking him over like a dog eying a cat that it fully intended to chase off its territory. The redhead looked Dudley over once more before turning and leaving through a different door, presumably moving further into the house, but the blond and the other man made no motion to leave.

"Dad," Harry said warningly, surprisingly Dudley. The elder man lifted his chin, still glaring at Dudley, and went to Hermione to press a kiss to her temple. She caught him by the wrist.

"Where are the kids?"

"Your mother's. I wasn't bringing them here today."

Dudley fought the urge to stare. Were these two a couple? He had to assume so when Hermione kissed the man's cheek before letting him go and he followed the redhead out the door she'd gone through. The blond, at a nudge from Harry, picked up the little girl, squeezed Harry's hand, and approached Dudley.

"Draco—"

"Touch him, and you will regret ever stepping foot in my home, Muggle."

He turned away and left without giving Dudley chance to respond. Harry rolled his eyes at the man's theatrics, but there was an expression of undeniable fondness on his face that faded when he looked back to Dudley and Hermione.

"I can't leave, Harry," Hermione said apologetically. "Terms of your sentence."

"I know, but do you mind...?"

She shook her head and moved over to one of the corners, flicking her wand to make one of the chairs move over to her. Before sitting, she pulled a book out of her pocket and Dudley tried not to stare because there was no way that could fit in there.

"Magic, Dudley," Harry said, making him start and look over. "Her pockets are bigger on the inside."

"Like the TARDIS."

"Yeah. Take a seat."

Dudley did so, settling in the armchair opposite the one Harry took but not quite relaxing. Even without the glares of the other people, he felt on edge and at least part of that was because the portraits on the wall seemed to be glaring at him too. He wondered if he should point out that one of the frames was missing its occupant. Another one, that of a man who looked like an older version of Draco, the nameplate beneath reading Lucius, was painted sitting in the very chair in which Dudley sat and he looked as if he wanted to climb out of his painting and strangle Dudley.

Dudley sat up straighter. "Uh, Harry? I'm new to this magical world stuff so I hope this isn't a stupid question, but... your paintings can't come to life, can they?"

"They move, as you can see. What do you mean... oh. Lucius, stop glaring at him like that."

The picture of Lucius merely transferred his glare to Harry. "I hate you," he snarled.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know. Ignore him," he added to Dudley. "He's just bitter because there's a Muggle sitting in his favourite chair."

"I can move."

"Don't bother. He's dead and his opinion doesn't matter anymore."

Dudley nodded, still thinking it might be better to change his seat but not willing to let a painting frighten him.

For a while the two men sat in awkward silence. Dudley had dressed that morning in a suit, but he felt overdressed now as Harry wore only jeans and a jumper, not even having any shoes on. In retrospect, Dudley should have a figured that a man under house arrest probably didn't dress up much, if ever.

Harry was the one to break the silence. "So Hermione said your daughter is a witch."

Dudley nodded. "Yeah, Abigail. She's eleven. We sent her off to Hogwarts at the start of the month."

"Is she your only child?"

"No, I have a son, Eric. He's eight. And a pair of twins on the way."

Harry nodded, looking at Dudley like he was trying to take him apart with his gaze. Dudley shifted uncomfortably. "What about you? Was that little girl yours?"

"Yes."

"What's her name?"

"Katrina."

"Her mother...?"

"Isn't around. Is this why you wanted to see me? To ask about my family?"

Dudley bristled slightly at the confrontational tone. "Yes, and about you. We haven't seen each other since we were twelve, Harry. I... I wanted to know what happened to you."

"A lot has happened to me since I was twelve, most of which you wouldn't believe."

"What happened back _then_?" Dudley asked, a little annoyed by Harry's attitude. "I know we didn't really get along as kids, but—"

"Didn't get along? That's how you remember it?"

Dudley balked slightly. Something in Harry's voice and the way he'd stiffened in his chair made Dudley want to back away, but he couldn't quite say what. He'd stood nose to nose with the toughest generals the British Army had to offer and faced down armed insurgents in battle, but some instinct in him said that Harry, for all his appearances, could be far more dangerous than anything he'd faced before.

"Alright, I was a bully," Dudley admitted. "I picked on you when I shouldn't have, but I was just a kid, Harry. I'm sorry."

Harry looked away, blowing out a long breath and slumping in his chair, somehow managing to go from subtly threatening to withdrawn and defensive in an instant. "I am too. I didn't mean to be so... you just remind me of your father, I guess."

Dudley took that as a compliment, but was smart enough to realise Harry didn't mean it as such, so all he said was, "He's dead now. Has been for over twenty years. Mum too."

"I know. I heard about it."

Lucius made a noise and Dudley glanced up, but Harry did as well and he gave Lucius such a foul look that the man snapped his mouth shut without saying anything. Even Dudley was a little scared by it and the look wasn't directed at him.

"Why are you here?" Dudley asked his cousin. "Under house arrest, I mean. What did you do?"

Harry stared at Lucius' portrait a moment longer before lowering his gaze to Dudley. "War crimes."

That surprised Dudley. "Which war? You were never in the British military; I searched the personnel files when I was looking for you."

"A magical war. Wizards fighting wizards. The Muggles never knew about it, not the general public anyway."

"Twenty years ago? You were eighteen."

Harry shrugged. "Sixteen, actually. It was over by the time I turned eighteen."

Dudley gaped. He looked around at Hermione, who felt his gaze and glanced up from her book with a frown, then he glanced back to Harry. "Sixteen? You people allow _children_ to join the army?"

Harry laughed, but it was a humourless noise. "Army? The wizarding world doesn't have an army, Dudley. The man I worked for was a tyrant, and the people who fought him were revolutionaries. Voldemort didn't care how old the people in his service were, he just wanted powerful wizards he could manipulate and control, and they don't come more powerful than me."

Some part of Dudley believed that, but another part of his mind couldn't equate this small man with extreme power and that must have shown on his face because Harry smiled.

"It's true. I'd show you, but I don't have a wand and as a Muggle you don't really have a baseline for the average wizard anyway."

Dudley relaxed a little to hear that Harry didn't have a wand. From what he'd seen and read in Abigail's books, wands were crucial to magic casting so even if Harry was still dangerous, he wasn't a threat right now.

He jumped when a small creature dressed in what looked like a tea towel appeared nearby. It said nothing, just set a tea tray on one of the nearby tables and bowed before vanishing again.

"What the devil was that?!"

"House elf," Harry answered simply. "Servant. Draco probably realised I'd forget to offer you something to drink. Is tea alright? I can order something else."

"Uh... tea is fine." Would it be rude to ask if the elf had made it itself? Probably. Harry didn't seem concerned, pouring two cups and taking one for himself. Dudley picked up the second but didn't drink until he'd seen Harry take a mouthful. He really hoped elves didn't have some kind of germs foreign to humans. It tasted alright at least.

Casting about for something to distract him from the tea. "So you've been under house arrest since you were eighteen?"

Harry hesitated. "No," he said slowly. "I spent some time in prison initially, before my sentence was changed."

"Why did they change it?"

"Things happened. It's a long story. Look, Dudley, it's... nice, I guess... that you're not the same person you were as a kid, and you seem pretty calm about the whole magic thing so you clearly don't take after your parents, but..."

"But you don't want to know me," Dudley finished for him.

" _You_ don't want to know _me_. I—"

"Wait a minute, what do you mean about taking after my parents? You made it sound as if they knew about magic." Harry just looked at him. Dudley put his tea aside. "No. No, no way. That's ridiculous."

"Why do you think they hated me so much?"

"They didn't..." He trailed off, because in truth they had, especially Vernon, and Dudley couldn't deny it. "They never said anything about magic."

"Of course they didn't. They thought they could just beat it out of me and I'd be 'normal'. They hated magic. They even preferred to tell you that I was sent to an insane asylum than admit that I was a wizard attending a magical school."

"Oh, gods," Dudley muttered. It seemed so obvious now. "You told me. Me and that kid I hung around... Louis... something. I don't remember his last name, but I remember one time you told us you were a wizard."

"And you beat the crap out of me."

Dudley grimaced. "I'm sorry about that."

Harry stared at him as if he was trying to read Dudley's mind to discover if he was lying or not, but then he blinked and glanced away. "Apology accepted. I've endured worse from others, so forget about it."

His tone brooked no argument and Dudley resisted asking what else he'd endured. Instead he gestured to Harry's face. "Your eyes... the blue one, is that the one you lost your sight in?"

Harry nodded, making an aborted gesture towards his face. "This is a fake, enchanted so I can see with it."

"Wow, really? That's impressive."

Harry shrugged. Perhaps it wasn't all that impressive when magic was part of your everyday life.

"So Hogwarts... that's where you went when you disappeared that summer? But you never came back," he said when Harry nodded.

"Given the choice, I never would have come back that summer. I was forced to. Afterwards, I found other places to stay during the school holidays."

Dudley couldn't really blame him for that. He had the answers to the questions he had when he left home this morning, but he also had more questions and he did want to get to know his cousin. It would be nice to have some connection to the wizarding world other than his daughter, to have a way for him to learn about the new community that wasn't just reading Abigail's school books. Harry was a way to do that. Being a war criminal stood against him—it wasn't the kind of person he would really want around his kids—but perhaps if he knew more of the details and the 'extenuating circumstances'. If the courts had seen fit to amend his sentence from imprisonment to house arrest, he couldn't be that bad of a person, surely?

He mentioned this and Harry considered it in silence, frowning thoughtfully as he stared up at the painting of Lucius, who'd sat in his armchair and was inspecting his nails, ignoring the two men. The other portraits weren't interested in them, either sleeping in their frames or, in one painting, playing poker. Hermione was engrossed in her book, a cup of tea on a table at her elbow. Staring at her, he wondered about the man who'd been at King's Cross with her, the man who was apparently her lover, and who Harry had called 'dad'.

"Harry?"

He started slightly. "Sorry. Yes?"

"That man, the one you call 'dad'..."

"What about him?"

"I thought your father was dead. It's why you came to live with us, wasn't it?"

"Oh, that, no. Well, yes, sort of. James Potter, who I thought was my dad and thought was dead, was actually my step-father and he was being held prisoner rather than killed. My actual father, Severus, didn't want to look after me as a child so left me with you lot. He's made up for it since then."

"So then Hermione..."

Harry frowned, glancing over. "What about her?"

"She and your father... they're...?"

He grimaced slightly. "They're lovers, but they're not married so she's not technically my step-mother and we don't think about that."

That sounded reasonable. "I take it that's why you changed your name from Potter then."

Harry hesitated just long enough to be noticeable. "Yes."

Dudley wondered at the pause, but decided not to ask. It was clear that things in Harry's past were far more complicated that Dudley had thought.

Harry sighed. "I don't think this will work, Dudley. However much of a better person you've become, we're too different to ever be friends."

Dudley didn't need to be a genius to figure out what Harry really meant. "I remind you too much of my father, basically."

"Something like that."

"You don't think getting to actually know me would change that?" he asked, a little angry that Harry wasn't even giving him a chance.

"Maybe. I don't know. But I don't think you want to get to know me. I'm not the kind of person you want to be friends with, Dudley."

"You don't know that. You don't know _me_ , so you have no idea what kind of friends I have."

"I'm guessing they're not violent criminals under house arrest."

"You're not even going to give me a chance, are you?"

"No."

Dudley stood up, full of hurt pride and anger now. He was surprised by the strength of his desire to just smack Harry across the face; his army training taught him to subdue most of his violent urges and let them out only in the gym or on the battlefield. He certainly wouldn't have made colonel if he'd continued to let his anger get the best of him like he did when he first joined up, so he was surprised to feel it bothering him so much now. He could only assume that it was Harry, something about his cousin reminding him of the spoilt and impetuous child he'd once been.

And Harry looked at him now like he expected to see that same impetuousness. He stood as well, a head shorter than Dudley and not half as wide, staring up at him almost as if daring Dudley to hit him and prove that he hadn't really changed. Dudley couldn't say he wasn't tempted. Harry didn't have a wand and he would be no challenge in a physical fight, but he wasn't going to give the wizard the satisfaction.

"Fine. In that case, I'll take my leave," he said stiffly. "Goodbye, Harry."

Harry said nothing and Dudley turned away, marching across the room to Hermione, who'd packed up her book and drawn her wand when the two men stood.

"Everything alright?"

Dudley nodded stiffly. "I'd like to go home now."

She nodded, glancing past him to Harry then walking Dudley out. The long-haired smoker was sitting on the front steps of the house, fag between his lips, with the dark-haired man at his side. The smoker nodded a greeting but the other just glared as Hermione and Dudley passed.

"Who are they?" Dudley asked when he thought they were out of earshot.

"Sirius and Tyler? Harry's godfather and best friend. Why?"

"The older one didn't seem to like me." He didn't mentioned that no one he'd met today seemed to like him, with the exception of Hermione.

"Sirius. He's overprotective about Harry. Trying to make up for lost years still, I guess. Long story," she added when he looked at her questioningly.

"Harry's whole life seems that way."

She thought about that, then nodded. "Yeah, pretty much." She withdrew the empty water bottle from her pocket and held it out, waiting for him to touch a finger to it before she tapped it and muttered, " _Portus_."

It glowed blue for a second, she stowed her wand, and then the hook wrenched at Dudley's gut again. When the sensation passed, he found himself standing in his own back garden. Through the living room window he could see Nina on the sofa, but she had her back to them and hadn't noticed them arrive. He wanted to go to her, to hold her and take comfort from her warmth and familiarity, but he wasn't quite ready yet.

"Hermione, can I ask how long you've known Harry?"

"Since we were children. We were close friends once, but not as much anymore. Why?"

"Do you know how my parents treated him? How I did?"

She nodded carefully, eying him.

"Did it really affect him so badly? I don't remember it being that bad, but... I guess it could have been worse than I remember. I'd just like to understand why he won't even give me a chance."

She let out a long, heavy sigh. "I won't lie. I think your father was worse than you know and Harry can't move on from that, but there is a lot of other stuff he can't let go of. I understand why you wanted to find out what happened to the boy who disappeared when you were young, but honestly, just be satisfied that you have the answer to that. As his friend and as a member of the DMLE, I would not recommend trying to befriend Harry."

He looked at her in surprised. "That seems a bit unkind to say as his friend."

She shrugged, smiling wanly. "I know Harry. He's difficult and carrying a lot of weight from his past mistakes. He's not easy to love and he doesn't trust or love easily in return. He has a close circle of friends and family now and I think it's all he needs."

They parted ways and Dudley headed inside, trusting that Hermione spoke the truth and putting aside his lingering desire to reconnect with his cousin. If Harry wasn't going to make the effort with him then Dudley wasn't going to waste time trying either, even if it'd have been nice to have that connection to the wizarding world and to be able to say he had a living blood relative aside from his children. He would discover the wizarding world himself with Abigail and Nina, and Eric and the twins when the time came. As for family, he'd made a great one himself and his in-laws were the nicest people anyone could hope for. He certainly didn't need Harry.


End file.
